


Darkspawn & Pie

by RunawayDragons



Category: Dragon Age, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-11-15
Updated: 2012-05-04
Packaged: 2017-11-04 19:18:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/397289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RunawayDragons/pseuds/RunawayDragons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crossover SPN/DA AU, which started out as a drabble request from a friend. Dean Winchester gets transported into the world of Thedas, meets up with Vaelyn Surana, and her companions. Starts before the Landsmeet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Son of a bitch!"

Dean was out of ammo and that meant he was going to have to resort to using the sword Vaelyn had given him, not that he was bad with a sword, but it was so much less efficient then his pistol. Once again he can't help but wonder how the hell he ended up here. Oh, that's right, it was the freaking angels again. Cas had managed to get a message to him, it had been fuzzy and hard to understand, something about alternate dimensions mixing with a spell gone wrong. Well, whatever it was it had sent him into a freaking world straight out of video game or a book. He'd woken up in a snow covered field in the middle of nowhere with nothing more then the clothes on his back and the weapons he usually kept on his person. He'd wandered around and run smack dab into a pack of disgusting looking monsters, the likes of which he'd never seen before. He'd managed to kill some of the smaller ones before a giant one charged onto the field. He'd nearly shit his pants at the sight of the drooling horned behemoth. Just before what he now knows was an ogre, got to him, a bolt of lightning had shot through the air and distracted it. More lightning had followed and then battle cries had rung across the clearing as a band of people charged at the ogre. He wasn't sure what had shocked him more, the fact that these people where wearing armor and wielding swords and other medieval weapons or that the lightning had come from the hands of a short woman who ran straight at the ogre totally unafraid. And then, even more shockingly, that same woman had been the one to deliver the killing blow, jumping through the air and stabbing a sword through the creature's eye. Watching her kill the thing had distracted him, and it nearly cost him his life. 

The roar of charging hurlock brings Dean back to the present and resumes doing what he does best, killing monsters. His chain-mail tunic chafes his shoulders painfully, but it doesn't stop him from swinging his sword at the genlock trying to flank him. If only Sam could see him now, decked out in full on armor, complete with a winged helm. Sam would laugh at him, hell, he keeps laughing at himself. 

"Dean!"

Wynne's strained cry instantly grabs his attention, he looks her way to see the old woman trying to fend off some shrieks. Then he sees why she's desperate, she's trying to protect Vaelyn, who is lying motionless with a knife sticking out of her back behind her. He doesn't hesitate to make his way over there, killing anything that gets in his way. Lyn has to be alright, she just has to be. He owes her his life. 

Wynne sees the fear flash across the young man's face but it is quickly replaced by the look of grim determination she has become used to seeing. Dean keeps the darkspawn at bay so she can heal Lyn as best she can for the moment. A genlock rogue had snuck up behind her and Lyn had thrown herself in front of the creature's blade, knowing she'd have a better chance of survival thanks to her armor then Wynne would dressed in wool robes. Stubborn young woman, always risking her life for her companions. Wynne would love to lecture Lyn to not take so many risks but she knows it would be futile. Until recently Lyn had been the most stubborn person Wynne had ever met, but now there was Dean, and that young man was vying for the prize. 

After the fight in the clearing there had been some tense moments, or so Wynne had been told by Leilana. Lyn had brought Dean back to camp and it wasn't until he was eating supper with them that they noticed something was wrong. His skin had started to pale and suddenly he couldn't seem to sit upright. Wynne had inspected him despite his protests, and discovered that he was bleeding heavily from a wound in his side and he'd been contaminated with the taint. What had followed was a crash course in Ferelden lore and the purpose of the Grey Wardens. Given the choice of dying from the taint, or possibly dying from the Joining, Dean had taken the latter. And by Andraste's grace he'd survived. 

Dean had been with their "band of misfits" as Lyn likes to call them, for about a month now. He'd fit in amazingly well, quickly making friends with Oghren and Shale. He always treats Wynne with respect, Morrigan however was a different story. His apparent dislike for witches paved the way for him to make friends with Alistair, which seemed to amuse Lyn to no end at first. 

"Lyn!"

"Woof!"

As if Wynne’s thought of the young templar had conjured him, Alistair arrives with Dane in tow, dog and man equally covered in darkspawn blood. Both men and the hound easily dispatch the last of the darkspawn. Wynne finishes her healing spells and feels Lyn begin to return to the waking world. As the last healing spell finishes it’s job, Lyn begins to stir.

"Ugh... how long was I out?"

The young woman pushes herself up off the ground using her elbows until she has enough leverage to gingerly move into a sitting position. 

"Only about five or ten minutes. That is what you get, however, for doing such a foolish thing."

Lyn gives Wynne an eyeroll and lifts a gauntlet covered hand to make a dismissive motion in response. The elder mage lets loose a frustrated sigh before getting to her feet. Lyn carefully rolls her head from side to side in an attempt to figure how restricted her range of motion will be until she's completely healed. The wound in her left shoulder twinges when she stretches to the right, it hurts, but not enough to make her think about slowing down. 

"You know, that's what you get for procrastinating."

Alistair's amused tone causes Lyn to look up at him and blink owlishly. 

"I have no idea what you mean."

That was a lie, she knows exactly what he means, and it doesn't help that he is right either. If Lyn had just gotten her good set of armor, Cailan's old armor, repaired when it just had some small dents and dings she wouldn't be in this mess now. She'd procrastinated and waited until the last minute to send her armor to Wade to get repaired, so that by the time it arrived he was swamped and it would take him a week to get to her armor. So she'd been wearing Leliana's spare set of leather armor, which was not nearly as protective as her usual set. 

"Uh huh, sure."

Lyn knows that if she glanced up she'd find Alistair giving her one of his classic one eyebrow raised looks. Those looks used to make her insides do a neat little flip, but at this moment she was too busy thinking about how much effort it was going to take to stand. Lyn takes a deep breath to steel herself and starts to get up when suddenly a gloved hand shoves itself into her vision. Startled, she grabs it without thinking, and lets the owner of the hand help her get up. Once on her feet Lyn glances up and meets Dean's green eyes with her grey ones. For some reason she feels like blushing, and then she realizes she's held his hand just a second too long. She quickly tries to cover up her awkwardness by checking to make sure she has all her weapons. Only once she's composed does she glance back up at him.

"Thank you."

He just gives her one of those nods, that conveys so much more then words could, as a reply. Lyn gives him a quick smile in return and then starts walking, the others quickly fall in behind her.


	2. Chapter 2

Once back at camp for the night, Lyn heads over to her tent and pulls out her pen, ink and journal and settles into her routine of recapping the day's events on paper. A small ball of light hovers over her the shoulder, shedding light on the pages holding her entry from the night before. She can hear the others moving about the camp as they settle in for the night. Leilana is humming something as she repairs a ripped tunic. Shale and Sten are keeping watch and doing their best to ignore Oghren and Zev's swapping of dirty limericks. Wynne and Morrigan are minding the stew and Dane is waiting patiently, hoping they'll give him a snack. Laughter swells and echoes across the camp, warm from the belly laughter that instantly makes Lyn smile as she hears it. A glance across the fire reveals Alistair and Dean sitting on a log while cleansing their weapons of darkspawn blood. The firelight reflects off of their faces, both grinning, having evidently shared some great joke. If she didn't know any better she'd think they were twins, or at least brothers. They have the same smile that exudes boyish charm and lights up their eyes. Even their hair is the same style and close in color, Dean's being just a little darker than Alistair's. 

"They're quite the pair aren't they?"

Leilana's thick orlesian accent comes from right beside Lyn, and she can't help but twitch in surprise. Damn bard, always walking so damn softly and sneaking up on people. Lyn casts a glance up at the redhead from her seat on the ground in front of her tent and shrugs. 

"I suppose they are."

"Aren't you the lucky woman to have the attention of both?"

Lyn's logical brain completely misses the bard's suggestive tone again.

"I would hope they pay attention to me, I am the leader after all."

Leilana starts to say something but stops herself before a word actually leaves her lips. How can Lyn be so oblivious in these types of things and yet notice when an enemy so much as twitches? Even Morrigan can tell that both of Lyn's fellow Wardens have a thing for her, and the witch has almost no social skills. It's times like these that Leliana misses Orlais the most, at least there a lady knew when she was being courted.

"Stew is ready, come get it while it's hot!"

Everyone heeds Wynne's call and soon all, with the exception of Shale, are seated around the fire eating. Small talk is shared and occasionally someone cracks a joke, but what Dean really notices is how much it feels like being part of a large family. Every night has been like this. If it rains, everyone crams into Morrigan's little lean-to, if it's cold they huddle close together. He can't help but feel that this is what it should have felt like when he and Sam still had dad around. Amazingly Dean loves it here. No angels trying to end the world, just monsters that can be killed. Even the demons are easier to kill here, especially with Lyn around to use her magic. 

As if she's read his mind, Lyn gives Dean an amused smile before turning back to her conversation with Sten. That smile makes Dean's palms sweaty, and he quickly turns his gaze back to the rest of his dinner. That first night with Vaelyn and her companions fills his mind again. His shock and disbelief that not only was magic everywhere, but that there were elves, dwarves, talking rock statues and a dog who understood everything he was saying. It had all been a bit too much, and combined with the massive blood loss, he'd fainted. Lyn still picks on him for that, asking him every time he gets a tiny cut if he'll be okay, does he need to sit down? 

He still isn't entirely used to the idea of there being more races then on his planet? plane of existence? dimension? Well regardless, the thought of there being dwarves and elves everywhere has taken some getting used to. Occasionally he still finds himself staring at Lyn's ears with surprise, as if he'd forgotten they were there. And then she'd catch him and he'd end up stuttering and making excuses, to which she'd only reply by looking amused. 

At least he's been able to make himself useful. Once Alistair and Lyn had explained everything to him, he'd been somewhat relieved. End of the world situation? He's got some experience there. A war to be fought against monsters was something he could handle. Something tangible and real that could anchor him to the present. Becoming a Grey Warden had almost been more painful then being in hell. The hangover from the blood hadn't been much better. The first week he'd gotten almost no sleep, thanks to the nightmares. Lyn had warned him about them, but he hadn't believed her and then when he found she hadn't been exaggerating he didn't want to admit it. Lyn had finally had enough of his bravado half way through the second week. She'd informed him his thrashing had been keeping her awake when he'd awoken to find her sitting next to his bedroll, leaned against a stump half asleep with her hand on his arm. He'd wondered in his sleep why suddenly he'd felt safer. He wasn't used to this kind of treatment, this gentle caring that he didn't ask for.

Every night he thrashed, she'd get up and comfort him by resting a hand on his arm, once he'd even woken up to find her stroking the top of his head while softly humming a soothing tune. And she'd kept taking care of him until he'd gotten a handle on himself. She never asked for anything in return, never blamed him for the circles under her eyes from the lack of sleep. He'd finally worked up the courage once to ask why she kept taking care of him and she'd just smiled and said, "Because you're one of us now, and I take care of my own." He'd had no answer for that. 

Dean had paid her back the only way he knew how, by killing things. Alistair and Oghren helped by sparring with him any chance they got. Amazingly, it turned out he was a pretty decent hand with a sword. Knives and daggers he already knew how to handle, and even managed to show Zev a few new tricks. The added strength and six sense for danger the taint gave him was a surprising but helpful bonus. He'd been pretty strong before, but now he was the hulk. His attention gets pulled back to the present when Lyn clears her throat loudly, something she usually does before issuing orders. 

"Tomorrow we'll reach Denerim. I need to pick up my armor and tie up some loose ends. We'll split up to get things done quickly, you guys know the drill, and then we'll all meet up at the Pearl. I rather stay at the Gnawed Noble but someone brought too much attention our way last time."

As Lyn finishes speaking everyone turns their gaze to the dwarf sipping from a flask. 

"What? Why is everyone looking at me?"

"Because you would be the person I'm referring to, Oghren."

"It was the elf's fault, not mine. I was just an innocent bystander."

"You keep telling yourself that, my stocky little friend."

Zevran and Oghren descend into another one of their bicker fights and the rest of the group ignores them. Dean helps Wynne clean up the remains of their meal and washes the bowls for her. Sometimes he likes to think that his grandmother would have been like Wynne. Stern, wise, a bit heavy on the lectures, surprisingly tough, handy in a fight and appreciative of good alcohol. Also her healing talents would really come in handy back home.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean sticks close to Vaelyn once they arrive at the city. Wynne branches off with Morrigan to sell their extra potions and browse the Wonders of Thedas. Leilana departs with a reluctant Shale, and Oghren and Zev follow with lecherous smiles on their faces. Vaelyn sets off to meet with Ignacio and then the contact for the Blackstone Irregulars, in order to get the coin she'll need to pay for the repairs to her armor. 

Only a few people glance at Lyn and her party, mostly to stare at Sten. Occasionally they pass someone who knows they're not just another band of mercenaries. Those people who know who they really are either glance in the other direction or nod respectfully. Last time they were in the city Dean had asked Alistair why no one bothered them, as he'd remembered that Loghain had put a price on their heads. Alistair had smiled and then answered him, "It's simple really. We've helped the right people, killed the people who've tried to arrest us and now the rest just look the other way. The city guard won't touch us thanks to Sergeant Kylon, the Crows won't take anymore contracts out for us thanks to our friend, the Blackstone Irregulars are supporters and the Mages Collective makes sure the local templars look the other way. We still have to watch out for Loghain's cronies and Howe's men, but otherwise we're good."

Upon their arrival at Wade's Alistair stops and pulls Lyn aside. Dean can't help but notice Lyn stiffen after Alistair says something, her shoulders hold so much tension it looks like a truck could hit her and she wouldn't budge. She makes a few angry looking hand gestures and the templar replies with some of his own. They argue with hushed voices for another minute and then Lyn throws her hands up in the air, evidently giving into whatever Alistair is planning on doing. Alistair looks slightly guilty for a brief moment but then turns and walks away briskly. Lyn spins on her heel, looks at her mabari hound and addresses him with a tone of frustration.

"Go with him, will you? Make sure he doesn't get himself killed."

"Woof!"

Dane wags his stubby little tail and then takes off at a lope and easily catches up with Alistair, who is doing his best to look aloof and forbidding. Lyn doesn't bother to watch her hound leave, and instead just stomps into Wade's shop with a look on her face that could freeze your blood. Dean gives Sten a questioning glance after she passes him.

"Any idea what that was about?"

Sten merely glances down at Dean for a moment and then follows Lyn, taking care to duck through the doorway so he doesn't hit his head. Feeling a bit foolish, Dean quickly ducks inside as well, not wanting to be alone outside. Lyn calms outwardly as she talks to Wade and Herren. Dean leans against the post in the middle of the room and does what is increasingly becoming a habit with him, he studies her. As usual the first thing that he notes is how damn short she is. All the elves seem to be shorter then the humans, but Vaelyn is even shorter then most, only standing around five foot three or so. Long brown hair is swept back and up into a bun, with wisps that have escaped to frame her face. The more she talks with the slightly crazy armorer the more animated she becomes, using her hands to paint the picture of what she wants. It's about then that Dean realizes that Wade keeps glancing at him and then nodding at Vaelyn. Seemingly satisfied at last, Lyn picks up her armor and slips into a back room to change. 

"Alright young man, step over here."

Wade's ridiculous mustache quivers as he speaks and Dean can't help but wonder how impractical it is for a armorer to have so much hair on his face when his job requires him to work closely with fire. 

"Young man! I do not have all day!"

Dean blinks at the now irritated Wade and gives him a questioning look.

"You talking to me?"

"Who else would I be talking to? The giant already wears my handiwork, so that just leaves you."

Cautiously, Dean makes his way over to Wade and stands with a bit of apprehension on his face. Wade doesn't make it any easier for Dean by promptly stripping him of his armor and leaving him standing there in his borrowed breeks and tunic. Wade then proceeds to measure Dean and otherwise manhandle him. Feeling decidedly uncomfortable Dean starts to hum Enter Sandman quietly to help keep calm. Eventually Wade leaves him alone, but when he tries to start putting his armor back on Wade yells at him and tells him to stay where he is. 

Lyn emerges from the back room with the leather armor in her arms and carefully steps around Dean in order to deposit her bundle on the counter in front of Herren. Dean can't help but feel a bit flushed when he notices her studying him intently. Determined not to loose his nerve, he studies her in return. Her armor suits her slim frame, surprisingly. Gold and black with it's dragon's head breastplate it is certainly eye catching. Wade did more then fix the dents and holes apparently, as it seems to fit her better then before. When his gaze lifts to her face he meets her gaze, her grey eyes are smiling at him and his stomach does a funny feeling little flop. Before he can make a fool of himself Wade comes to his rescue and starts making him put on a new chainmail tunic. Amazing this one actually fits, and Dean can't help but wiggle around and swing his arms testing it out. No pinching, no chafing and even better this set doesn't squeak. Wade doesn't let him do anymore testing, instead he starts fastening on a new set of armor. The armorer fidgets with the straps, then steps back and inspects his handy work. Seemingly satisfied, he looks past Dean and addresses Lyn.

"Well Warden, what do you think?"

Lyn moves away from the counter she had been leaning on and walks around Dean, closely inspecting his new armor. She seems deep in thought for a moment, her arms crossed across her chest. 

"I think it is a large improvement. What do you think Dean?"

Dean raises his eyebrows but then decides to play along. He lifts his arms again and then jumps up and down a few times. His new armor not only ways less then his borrowed plate but also stays in place and doesn't restrict his range of movement much. He glances down at himself and finds that he can't quite figure out what the new armor is made out of. He taps it with a finger and eyes it with suspicion for a moment before glancing back at Lyn and shrugging.

"Not bad. What's it made of?"

"Dragonscale. I had extra and last time I was here I'd had Wade start on making another set of armor with it. It's great against swords, arrows and the like but not so good against being crushed, just so you know."

"I'll remember that."

Lyn finishes her transaction with Herren and then leads the way out into the marketplace. She casts a glance around her and then gives Sten a huge smile. Dean's jaw almost hits the ground when Sten smiles back at the Warden. Lyn notes his shocked look and chuckles.

"Can you keep a secret Dean?"

Dean answers her reflexively.

"For you? Always."

As the words leave his lips he freezes, mortified. Lyn however just smiles at him and seems to ignore all the hidden meaning behind his words. He's not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. 

"Good. Whenever we're in Denerim, Sten and I sneak off to have a little fun on our own. You can come if you promise not to tell the others where we've been or what we've done."

Dean glances at Sten and the giant glances back at him with an emotionless look. He considers his options and then shrugs his shoulders again.

"I promise." 

"Good."

Lyn sets off with Sten right behind her, Dean is quick to follow. His mind is full of ideas as to what this secret activity might be. He's so caught up with his musings that he doesn't pay attention to where they're going. Lyn winds through a bunch of side streets, moving with her inherent elven grace. Sten keeps up easily as people part before him like water, and Dean follows in his wake. 

When Lyn stops at her destination Dean is shocked. He'd thought they might be going to a secret bar or back alley with bare knuckle boxing or something, not a bakery. The baker's wife greets Lyn with a wide smile and even smiles at the giant, who only has eyes for the box in her hand.

"Aye my lady, I got the note your hound delivered. Here be a box of your usual, would you like anything else?"

Lyn glances over her shoulder at Dean and motions for him to step up closer to the counter. 

"Get whatever you want Dean, my treat."

Suddenly Dean feels like he's five years old and sitting at Missouri's kitchen table again. She'd bake him anything he asked for in exchange for helping weed her garden or raking up the leaves in her front yard. The counter before him holds racks and racks of every kind of bake good imaginable. It's all he can do not to drool all over the floor. He gives Lyn a questioning look and she just smiles back at him.

"Go on, pick something!"

"Pie, I want a pie."

The words come haltingly and unsure, making him sound like the little boy from his memories. The plump woman behind the counter chortles good naturally and then motions to shelf full of pies of all shapes and sizes. 

"What kind of pie, lovey? I've got Apple, peach, blueberry, mincemeat, and pumpkin."

"Apple."

Dean watches intently as the woman slides a large pie off of the shelf and puts it in a paper box carefully. Lyn hands the woman some coins, then hands the pie to Dean, and the other box to Sten. Both men regard their packages with small smiles and reverence, as if in their hands they hold their own personal saviors, not just boxes of baked goods. Lyn restrains the urge to chuckle again, instead leading the way to a quiet spot near the river. 

They find a spot to sit under a tree on a grassy bank, once settled they open their packages. Dean glances over at Sten's box and finds that it's filled with cookies of all different shapes and flavors. The giant qunari is smiling again, as is Lyn, who is helping herself to one of the sugary confections. Dean returns his attention to the beautiful thing on his lap. Using a knife he keeps in his boot, he carefully cuts a slice and stuffs it in his mouth. Sugar and spice fill his tastebuds, and the apples practically melt in his mouth. It is the best pie he's ever had.

No one talks, they just sit and enjoy the view of the city while stuffing their faces. This is Dean's kind of fun, and he's happy that Lyn trusted him enough to share this secret tradition with him. Once his pie is gone, every last crumb picked from the paper pan, Dean lies back on the grass and folds his arms behind his head. This world he now lives in has given him new appreciation for the quiet moments. He's well fed, safe for the moment thanks to Sten’s presence, and in the company of a woman who fascinates him. Dean has to admit, life is pretty good. 

Lyn leans back against the tree trunk and lets her legs stretch out in front of her. Sten watches the river intently as he finishes the last of the cookies in his box. Once finished, he pulls a small book from the pouch at his waist and begins to read it. The sun filters through the tree's leaves, leaving dappled patterns that dance and sway when a breeze passes by on the three companions. Dean dozes off and has pleasant dreams about pie and hips swaying in gold and black armor. Lyn lets him sleep, his worries melting from his face in his slumber, making him look younger and happier. She lets her mind wander, fingers absentmindedly playing with the silver dragon ring on her left hand.


	4. Chapter 4

Before the sun sets they make their way to the Pearl. Everyone has a chance to bathe and change before meeting for supper in the common room of the brothel. Dinner is fairly quiet as most of the group can't help but notice the tension in the air between Alistair and Lyn. Wynne and Leliana exchange cryptic glances, but never speak. Morrigan keeps her eyes on her food, but Dean catches the witch occasionally shooting the templar dark looks. Dean still wonders what it is Lyn and Alistair fought about, but doesn't dare ask or break the tense silence. It's Oghren who saves them. The dwarf loudly orders pitchers of the best ale in the house and bottles of wine. When the alcohol arrives he has Zevran help him serve it and raises his mug in a toast to the end of the blight and Loghain's downfall. There is resistance at first, but the dwarf is insistent and Lyn is unable to deny him, so she accepts a mug of wine and joins his toast. 

It's only a matter of time and a few servings of alcohol before everyone has loosened up. Dean finds that he's ended up sitting right next to Lyn, who, for a change, isn't in armor. She's in a robe similar to Wynne's, and the stitching emphasizes all her assets, causing his blood to run a little hotter. The wine has freed Lyn a little bit, helping her forget her anger. Oghren debates with her about something called a bronto. Some of the companions play cards and others just talk. Dean just keeps drinking and watching, still feeling a bit like an outsider. Time begins to slip around him like water, some of the companions slip away and go to their rooms. But Dean stays because she's still sitting next to him, their thighs occasionally touching. 

Zevran disappears with one of the Pearl's workers and the pirate woman Lyn called Isabela, leaving Dean alone with Lyn, Dane and Oghren. Oghren doesn't entirely count as the dwarf is completely passed out, slumped over the table and drooling on his armor. Lyn shifts and tries to reach the last bottle of wine on the table but can't quite reach it. Dean uses one of his long arms and grabs it easily for her. She smiles thankfully at him as he refills her glass, and he can't help but smile stupidly back at her. An easy silence stretches between them only interrupted by the occasional snore from Oghren. Dean is content to stay this way if it means he gets to keep sitting next to her like this. 

"So I bet you've been wondering what we fought about."

Dean blinks and focuses his slightly drunken mind on the words Lyn just uttered. After processing them, he just shrugs and pours himself more ale. 

"Shrug all you want, I know you were itching to know.” 

She pauses and takes a large sip of her wine, then continues. 

“It was about his sister.”

Lyn gazes intently at her wineglass, as if the contents hold the answers to all her problems. Dean knows better then to speak, as he's certain she's not done talking, but merely taking a moment to gather her thoughts.

"She's a money grubbing bitch, but Alistair keeps bringing her money. With every coin he gives her she gets meaner, more demanding. I went with him time before last. She was dressed like a noble, but her children still looked the same as when we first met her. Small, cold, hungry."

A frustrated sigh escapes her lips before she lifts her glass and downs all of it's contents in one go. Dean refills the glass without being asked, and watches her closely. Her brown hair wisps about her face, like a crazy cloud, straining to be free from the pins holding it in the tight bun at the back of her head. He’s tempted to tuck the longer bits behind her ear, but he’s not quite drunk enough yet to actually follow through with his whim. When she begins to speak again, he can’t help but watch her wine stained lips. 

"And you know what's the worst part? I don't even think she's actually his sister. But I can't tell him, because he's so happy to have any living family that he's willing to deal with her bullshit just so he has someone to call family. Plus he probably wouldn't even believe me, with my luck. Argh! It's just so frustrating! She's using him and he's letting her, and it's stupid."

Dean does his best to digest everything she's told him, but it's hard to think with a brain all fuzzy from ale. Not sure what to say he does the first thing that comes to him. He wraps an arm around her shoulders and pulls her up against him. She resists for half a second and then melts a little bit. 

"You know, I'd do anything for my friends. In fact, I've done everything they've asked of me. I helped Leilana kill the woman who dumped her by setting her up, which resulted in her being tortured. I found Sten's sword and saved him from the chantry, not in that order. I even helped Shale find the Thaig she came from before becoming a golem. I’ve done similar things for the others too."

Lyn's tone is full of sadness and frustration, and it makes Dean want to protect her. She’d done her best to help him, which had gone a bit against the grain for him. He was used to being the protector, the leader, the one who made the sacrifices. But this world placed those burdens on her her shoulders, and knowing how heavy they are, he just wants to take her burdens for his own, after all his shoulders are broader. He settles for holding her a little bit closer, so they can share the weight of her thoughts. Lyn seems to understand his unspoken thoughts, and rests her head against his shoulder.

"You know, I've had to do a lot of horrible things, kill a lot of people and make decisions I wish I'd never have."

"You did what you had to, Lyn."

"Heh, that's what Wynne is always saying. You know I had to kill Oghren's wife? He still loves her, and I killed her."

Lyn’s words are full of bitterness and Dean doesn't like it. He’d been down that road more then once, there is only way to help her turn away from it. 

"Look, I've heard the story more than once, even from Oghren himself. You did the right thing there. That woman was bat-shit crazy and you know it. If you hadn't killed her she would have killed a lot of people, or enslaved them against their wills. Seems to me that Oghren is better off without that bitch. So just stop right there. You did the right thing, and you know it. If you could go back in time, I know you wouldn’t change your mind. You’d choose the same damn path, every damn time."

Lyn is taken a bit aback by Dean's response, and the tone of certainty behind it. She's not used to hearing such blunt answers, but rather then being angry about it, she finds that she likes it. None of her other companions would talk to her this way. The truth of Dean’s words have an effect on her, she starts to feel a little bit better because she knows he’s right.   
"Thank you, Dean. I needed that."

"Anytime."

Exhaustion tugs at the edges of Lyn's consciousness, she knows she should get up and go to bed, but she feels so comfortable right where she is. The wine has made the majority of her aches and pains disappear, leaving just a fuzzy warmth in their place. Life has been nothing but pain lately, and it’s nice to feel safe again. Dean’s presence is comforting, warm, and steadying. 

Right before they'd found Dean, Lyn and Alistair had had a rather heated argument. Eamon had spent the day with Alistair, and when the templar had returned he'd asked to speak with Lyn privately. What had followed had been excruciatingly painful, but she'd hidden her feelings to the best of her ability. Eamon had made it clear that when the Landsmeet was called that Alistair would have to be completely prepared to take up the role of king, which meant no more affairs with elven mages. None of the nobles would be willing to back Alistair if he planned on making an elf queen, let alone a mage. His constant mentioning of her race had hurt more then anything. At one point he’d said he loved he more because of her heritage, now he was saying it was what was wrong with her. Lyn had gotten very angry, said some hurtful things, which had caused Alistair to do much the same. She’d stormed from the room, her magic crackling around her, begging to be unleashed. Alistair hadn’t followed, and hadn’t tried to apologize. What had followed was a awkwardness between them that had never been there before. They no longer shared a tent, and kept any conversation light, or focused only on the tasks at hand. He hadn't actually come out and said that he was dumping her, but he hadn't given her any sign that he wanted to keep their relationship regardless of what Eamon had said either. 

If she wasn't something Alistair was willing to fight for, then Alistair didn't deserve her, plain and simple. She'd always love him, but she wasn't going to let herself be his doormat either. When the two were together, even on the battlefield there was a cloud of sadness lingering over them, it had been wearing her down, making her feel like a shadow of the person she once was. She was so tired of fighting and being alone. Why couldn't things have been different?

"Life sucks."  
Her voice comes out low and full of anger, sadness, hurt pride, and just a hint of bitterness.

"Mmm, I second that."

Dean's husky reply is filled with plenty of his own emotions. Lyn wonders what he'd been thinking about to make him sound so sad and alone.

"You alright?"

The caring in her voice nearly undoes him, Dean had been thinking about Sam, wondering how he was doing. Bobby would take care of him, but still Dean worries about his little brother. He glances over at her face, worry lines evident between her dark brows. Sam would like her, he’s sure of it.

"I'm just dandy..."

A disbelieving snort escapes Lyn, causing Dean to answer with an amused noise and a smile. Lyn lifts her gaze so she can study Dean's expression. She notes the laughter lines at the corners of his eyes, and feels that funny little feeling in her gut again. The man is far too good looking, it isn't fair. The scruffy beard outlines his strong jaw, and brings your focus to his lips, she wonders if they’d taste as good as they look. As if sensing her thoughts, Dean turns his head and gazes down at her, his green eyes locking onto her brown ones with a wealth of emotion seeming to be waiting just beneath the surface.

"Dean?"

"Yes, Lyn?"

He bites his lower lip a moment and then licks his lips and whatever question she'd had in mind completely disappears. Maker, he has a fantastic mouth. She can't help but keep staring at it. Dean's gaze had wandered to Lyn's ears while he waited for her to ask whatever question she wanted to ask. When no question comes forth after a little while, he glances back at her face and his breath stops when he sees the want and hunger in her eyes. That look is too much, he can't take it anymore. 

He turns his upper body so he can pull her closer, as soon as they're in reach, he captures her lips and crushes them against his. She doesn't resist, in fact she behaves quite the opposite. His kiss is like food for her starving heart, she gives herself completely to it. Her body melts against his, her arms finding their way to wrap themselves around his neck. Dean deepens the kiss, finding that she tastes like wine and honey. The sound of loud laughter coming from the other side of the room brings both of them crashing back to the present. Dean reluctantly ends the kiss but doesn't release the hold he has on her. Her cheeks are flushed, but she looks anything but innocent or offended. He notes that her eyes seem to glow with restrained passion, and he finds it hard not to start kissing her again. What stops him are the dark circles beneath her eyes, she is always the first one up and the last one to go to bed. Until now he’d never thought much about how much sleep she was actually getting. Concern for her well being dampens the lust that had flared in him.

"When was the last time you got more then four hours of sleep?"

His question catches her by surprise, and her dark eyebrows knit together in confusion at the stern look he gives her.

"I don't know..."

Stupid stubborn woman, she should take better care of herself. And here he is keeping her up when she should be sleeping, but he doesn't want to leave her company either. An idea flits across his tired, ale soaked brain, and he instantly seizes at it. 

"Well, I'm going to make sure you get some sleep tonight."

"Dean, what are you doing?"

"Shut your pretty little caketrap, I know what I'm doing."

His rebuke wasn't what she was expecting and she opens her mouth to ask another question, but when he gives her a steely look she keeps her mouth shut. Dean shifts his grip and pulls Lyn onto his lap, and from there lifts her up so that he's carrying her. He glances down at the mabari hound who had been sleeping at his feet until he moved.

"Lead the way to her room, your mistress needs to sleep."

Dane looks from the man to his girl, and then wags his tail and leads the way to the room she'd reserved for herself. Once inside Dean gives Dane a pat on the head, and throws a spare blanket on the ground next to the fireplace for the hound, after depositing Lyn on the bed. He then removes his boots and the various weapons on his person. Lyn is too tired to resist when he does the same for her. He blows out the candles in the room and then climbs onto the bed. She gives him a confused and questioning look as he moves over next to her. 

"I'm going to do what you did for me, help you sleep. Get under the covers, I'll keep you safe."

His tone is soft and gentle, but firm, and Lyn is amazed to find that the thought of him staying nearby while she sleeps very comforting. It only takes her a minute to get settled under the covers. Once she stops shifting Dean pulls her close, so that she's leaning against him. As soon as their bodies are touching, a warm peaceful feeling washes over her. She can't help but let loose a little sigh of happiness. Dean smiles into her hair and drapes an arm across her middle under the blankets. Sleep beckons, but she resists a moment longer.

"Why are you doing this Dean? You didn't have to."

Lyn's curiosity is the only thing keeping her awake. 

"Because you got me pie."

Lyn can't help but utter a sleepy chuckle before curling up against Dean and letting sleep claim her.


	5. Chapter 5

Lyn awakes with a mental start, but her body stays still. There is a warm body pressed up close to hers, a muscled arm resting under her head, and for a moment she can’t remember how that came to be. She feels safe, however, and that feeling keeps her from leaping from the bed and reaching for the nearest weapon. A quick glance around the room shows her hound sleeping peacefully by the fire, and the bolt on the door firmly in place, both signs that nothing is amiss. Then the scent of warm man, leather, and a lingering whiff of soap fills her nose, and the earlier night’s events come crashing back. Dean is who is in bed with her. They’d kissed. Maker! She’d wanted to do a whole lot more then kiss, and it had seemed like he had too. But he’d made her rest, because he’d seen through her tough front, and known she hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep in a long time. 

An ache in her chest makes her realize that she’s been holding her breath, and she releases it with a silent whoosh. Dean stirs in his sleep, a look of pain distorting his face. Lyn lifts a hand free of the blankets, and brushes it lightly across his brow in a soothing motion. His face relaxes in response, softening, and losing it’s sharp angles of pain. She studies his face in the light from the dying fire, noting every laughter line, and the way his reddish-brown beard highlights his cheekbones. There is a chill in the air, and she draws her hand back under the covers, letting it rest on his chest. Her hand spreads outwards, and explores the curves of muscle under his skin. He must have taken his tunic off sometime in the night, because she would have remembered if he’d been shirtless before they fell asleep. 

Dean’s breathing is soft and steady, and Lyn continues to let her hand explore the hard plain of his chest and torso. Her head is nestled comfortably in the hollow of his shoulder, and she lets her eyes close again as her hand continues to wander. His skin radiates heat, hot as an oven. It warms her all the way through, and she can’t remember the last time she was this warm while resting. Her fingers never linger long in one place, and their touch is feather light. She lets them coast along his ribs, and explore the hard ridges of his abs. Feeling bold, she lets her hand venture further south, over his wool breeks. Something makes the fabric twitch as her hand finds it’s way to the thigh closest to her, and she smiles mischievously against his shoulder. 

“You’re an evil woman, you know that?”

Dean’s voice comes out thick with sleep, but with an undercurrent of something that sends an electric tingle down to her toes. She opens her eyes and gazes up towards his face, to find him looking at her with half closed eyes, eyebrows raised slightly. She smiles again, this time using her best innocent look.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

A snort escapes him, making it very clear that he doesn’t believe her pretended innocence one bit. Feeling bold, Lyn lets her hand wander again while keeping her eyes on his. She feels, more then hears, his breath hitch as she lets her fingers stroke the rough wool fabric over his cock. His whole body tenses as she continues to tease him with her hand, while beginning to kiss and taste the skin of his shoulder next to her head. Dean is mesmerized by her teasing, his whole body tense and awaiting every touch and every kiss. When she fastens her lips on the nearest nipple, he quivers with awareness. She is merciless and unrelenting with her teasing, never giving him a few seconds to recover. When she slips her hand inside his breeks and fastens her warm fingers around his straining cock, he groans with need. He can feel her smile against his chest in response, but her lips and tongue never stop their teasing. The thin layer of cotton of her chemise chafes his skin as she lets her breasts rub against his side. 

Unable to restrain himself any longer, he reaches down and shoves her hand away so he can remove his breeks. As soon as he’s free from them he begins removing her chemise and small clothes, with her assistance. She giggles when he makes a frustrated noise, because her clothing isn’t coming off as fast as he’d like. With all the fabric removed, he relishes the feel of skin on skin. She nips at his side, using her teeth, and he growls in response. Months of celibacy has left him with a need that makes him dizzy. 

Lyn shifts, and leans across his chest so she can get to his other nipple. Her hands wander as her mouth suckles on the hard nub. The feel of her soft breasts against his chest makes him groan again, the fact that he can’t get to them fills him with frustration. Lyn squeaks as Dean’s hands grab her by the hips and hoists her up and on top of him, it takes her a moment to regain her balance, a knee pressed into the bed on each side of his hips. Once stable, she sits up and the blankets slip from her back, ending up somewhere behind her, but she doesn’t notice. Dean is starring at her chest with a hunger in his green eyes that makes her skin flair with renewed heat. She lets him stare a moment longer, then leans forward so they hang just in front of his face. He accepts her offering, and begins to tease the sensitive skin between her breasts. 

Lyn loses herself to his teasing, grinding her hips against his. She angles herself just right and sighs with contentment once he slips inside her. Everything becomes a blur of heat, sweat, pleasure, and the drumming of her heartbeat in her ears. His hands on her hips seem to brand her with his wanting, she rides him, curtain of brown hair streaming down her back and eyes closed in ecstasy. Her release comes hard and fast, leaving her weak and collapsed on his chest. His hips pick up the rhythm where she’d left it. She nips and kisses the side of his neck as he continues to thrust inside her, enjoying the salty taste of his skin. A second wave of tension begins to build, and all she can do is hold on to him, her fingers digging into his shoulders, as she comes again. His release follows swiftly, leaving the two of them breathing hard and covered in sweat. 

A warm lassitude fills her body, and she feels oddly comfortable where she is, on Dean’s chest. Her calm is ripped away when the scar on her side twinges as a cold draft slides across the room, causing her to wince slightly. Lyn lifts her head to search for the blankets, and sees them just out of reach. Dean watches as she rolls off of him and reaches for the covers. 

“That looks like it was painful.”

She glances over her shoulder, eyebrows knit together in confusion. 

“Huh?”

He raises his arm, and lets his fingers trace the scar on her side, from hip all the way up her side to just under her armpit. His touch is light, and she swallows nervously as he inspects the remnants of her fight against Uldred’s pride demon and it’s abominations. Thanks to Wynne and Morrigan’s hard work, the scar had faded to silver along it’s length, only the part on her hip still an angry purple. Lyn looks down at her hip, and the small divot left by the hunger abomination’s poison that had eaten away the flesh there. Under her skin, the scar tissue keeps her from ever forgetting that night in the circle tower. 

“You could say that. It certainly wasn’t pleasant.”

Her sarcasm causes his eyebrows to draw upwards and together. She ignores his look, and pulls the blankets back into place. She settles herself against his side again, but this time facing away from his chest. He shifts, so he’s on his side as well, and pulls her tight against him. She offers no resistance to the closer contact, but he can feel the tension in her body. Dean wrestles with himself, trying to come up with something to say or do that will make her relax again, and bring back that easy comfort they’d had just moments ago. Unsure, and not wanting to upset her further, he just holds her closer, arms tight and protective. 

Lyn isn’t sure why she’s feeling this way, Dean didn’t do anything wrong. She isn’t even mad at him, but she’s mad at something or someone. Actually she’s mad at a lot of someones, but there is nothing she can do about it now. She draws in a deep draft of air and then slowly lets it back out, trying to exhale her anger with the used breath. It takes her a few more tries, but she starts to feel calmer, Dean’s tight hold helping to remind her that not everything is bad. 

“Sorry.”

The word slips from her lips, full of genuine regret. Dean responds by kissing the back of her head gently, keeping his arms tight around her. She sighs and wraps her arms around his, covering his hands with hers.

“I got that scar in a rather nasty fight. I got flung across a room and against a wall, then, while stunned, a hunger abomination tried to eat me. One of it’s poison teeth got stuck in my hip when I broke it’s skull with my staff. That was almost a year ago, but I lost a lot of friends in that fight, and almost lost my life.”

“You survived, that’s all that matters.”

Lyn refuses to think about those weeks of recovery. She forcefully turns her mind to more relevant things, like the last few things she needs to get done before the Landsmeet is called. She worries at her to do list, biting her lower lip as her mind turns things over and inspects the different plans. Just as she’s about to rehash her plan for how to present Alistair to the nobles, Dean starts to nibble at the back of her neck. Instantly her body responds, blood rushing to her face and making her feel very hot. 

“That’s better.”

Dean’s smug tone makes Lyn smile. She is tempted to do something to torture him, but the sounds of life stirring outside her door reminds her that she needs to get up. It wouldn’t do for the rest of their party to have to wait on her, and Dean. Maker... she’s spent the night with Dean. The odds of the others not noticing are slim to none. She’s not sure what she dreads more, Wynne’s reaction or what Alistair might do. 

“What have I done?”

Lyn’s anguished tone echoes across the cold room, and she is tempted to just huddle under the blankets and never come out. 

“Do I have to lay it all out for you? I thought you were well aware of what you were doing.”

Dean’s voice is amused, but there is a guarded undertone that makes Lyn flinch inwardly. She turns over so she faces him. A sarcastic smile shows on his face, but doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Regret for her outburst grabs at Lyn’s heart, and she places a hand on Dean’s chest, right above his heart.

“Oh Dean, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. I don’t regret a moment of what we’ve shared. I’m just dreading the inevitable gossip and lecturing that will be the result.”

Dean studies her face, and lets the hurt pride go. She isn’t lying, he’d completely forgotten that they’d have to deal with the rest of their companions. In fact, now that he thinks about it, this will most likely make his friendship with Alistair a bit strained. Zevran had regaled him one night with the tale of the templar and Lyn’s romance in response to Dean’s question regarding the constant tension between the two when he’d first joined their band. Dean doesn’t feel any guilt, Alistair gave up his right to have an opinion about Lyn’s love life when he’d agreed with Eamon that he couldn’t stay with the elven Warden. Now that Lyn is his, he isn’t planning on letting her go unless she asks him to. 

“Well, I guess we better get cleaned up and dressed then.” 

Lyn smiles at Dean, glad that he’s forgiven her hasty words. She gets out of the bed, quickly cleans herself up, and gets dressed, taking a moment to throw Dean’s discarded tunic at his head playfully. He counters by throwing a pillow at her, making her giggle. They continue to pick on each other playfully as they get their armor on, and secure their weapons. When they finally exit the room, with their packs slung over their shoulders, Dane bounding ahead of them happily, both are smiling.

Morrigan is the only one already up and eating breakfast. She glances at the pair’s smiling faces, rolls her eyes, and then returns to her porridge. Oghren is exactly where they left him the night before, and Lyn dumps a bowl of water over his head to wake him. Once the dwarf is coherent, he stumbles away to change into his armor. Dean takes a seat at the end of the booth, thinking that Lyn will sit next to the witch in order to be less obvious. But she places a bowl of porridge in front of him, and then sits as close as her armor will allow, a smile still on her face as she digs into her own breakfast. 

Their other companions all eventually make their way out into the common room, and get something to eat. Alistair is the last to arrive, he glances at Lyn, who is laughing about something with Zevran, but something about her is different. His face pales as he notices how close the two Wardens are sitting, and the easy smiles they share. He’s tempted to yell, to rage, or throw things, but instead he simply just turns and leaves without saying a word.

Lyn sees Alistair storm out, when the sound of the door slamming behind him echoes through the sleepy brothel, she chooses to ignore his tantrum and finishes her breakfast. She can feel Leilana casting curious glances towards the door and then back at Lyn, but Lyn ignores the bard. Dean listens intently as Lyn discusses her plans with Wynne. The elder mage agrees with the younger mage’s approach to their current set of problems. 

After their meal is finished, Lyn settles their bill with Sanga and then heads outside. The companions set off, Alistair pulling up the rear in moody silence. They leave Denerim and set off for Redcliffe. It’s time to call the Landsmeet.


	6. Chapter 6

The next day awkward silence permeates the air while Lyn and her companions eat their breakfast. Dinner the night before hadn’t been any better. Even Oghren is keeping to himself, but that may be just because he’s recovering from yet another hangover. Alistair had been careful not to talk to Lyn, let alone anyone else. When they’d been attacked by a band of bandits the day before, he hadn’t even called out a battle cry. Lyn is doing her best not to feel guilty, constantly reminding herself how he’d broke her heart not so long ago. She wishes she had Beth to talk to, as her old friend was always a fountain of information when it came to the opposite sex, and how to deal with them. Lyn continues to try to come up with what to do as she finishes her breakfast of cold biscuits and weak tea. 

When Alistair gets up after finishing his meal, Lyn intercepts him and motions for him to lead the way away from their camp. Annoyance is evident on his face at being so publicly confronted, but he doesn’t argue or resist. She waits to speak until they’re out of sight, and earshot, of the others. Just when she opens her mouth, Alistair gets an all too familiar pained look on his face and raises a hand to stop her from speaking. She’s tempted to speak anyway, but lets her mouth shut with an audible snap of impatience instead. Alistair ignores her irritation, and takes a moment to compose himself before he speaks. His eyes turn soulful, Lyn shifts uncomfortably when he locks the hurt puppy look on her.

“That was cruel Lyn. I love you, and I will always love you, I thought you knew that.”

She’s tempted to snap at him, and she knows she should stay calm, but her wounds from their breakup are still too fresh, it’s all she can do not to scream at him and pound her fists on his cuirass. Tempting as an outburst might be, she settles for the cold, slightly sarcastic, tone she’d used on a regular basis in the Circle. 

“I’m sorry, but being dumped after being told all about my flaws, and the reasons why I’m not a woman you could marry, hardly made me feel loved. My mistake, they obviously were screaming I love you, how stupid of me.”

Alistair’s face hardens as her biting tone lashes out at him. If he didn’t know her so well, he would only be able to see the frosty anger, however he does know her, so he sees the pain she’s trying to hide underneath her biting words. He’d kicked himself a million times for the way he’d treated her after his meeting with Eamon. He could, and should have, handled it much different, but he’d been scared, and mad so he hadn’t exactly been tactful when trying to discuss their future. Then they’d argued, and his pride hadn’t allowed him to apologize right away. Before he knew it a week had passed, where once things had been easy between them there seemed to be a huge chasm that would swallow him whole if he’d tried to cross it.

Then Dean had dropped into their lives, and Alistair had thrown himself into teaching the new recruit how to survive and fight in their world. Sure, he’d noticed that Lyn and Dean got along very well, but she hadn’t seemed to flirt with him anymore then she did with Oghren or Zevran, not that she ever consciously flirted with anyone. Plus he didn’t care anymore, they were just fellow Wardens, friends, and that was all, or so he kept telling himself. Realizing that Lyn slept with Dean yesterday morning left Alistair feeling betrayed, which showed him exactly how much he’d been lying to himself.

Alistair struggles to find something to do with his hands and fails, a ragged sigh of anguish leaves his lips before he meets Lyn’s cold eyes again. 

“Look Lyn, I’m sorry. I was an idiot, I am an idiot. But sleeping with Dean to get back at me was a low blow.”

As soon as the last sentence leaves his mouth, Alistair realizes what a mistake he’s made. Lyn steps back, as if his words had physically reached out and slapped her. Her cheeks turn a bright crimson for a moment but she quickly masters her emotions, her eyes and complexion return to it’s former ice cold expressionless mask. She doesn’t answer right away, but her lips press together making them look like a straight line. When she does finally speak, her tone is even more frigid then before.

“I accept your apology, Alistair. But you should know something, I didn’t sleep with Dean to get back at you. If I’d wanted to be that petty, I could have jumped into Zevran’s bed that night back in Redcliffe. My decision to try a relationship with Dean had nothing to do with you. Believe it or not. I don’t care.”

With every word, she seems to grow a little taller, making Alistair feel like tucking his non-existent tail and cringing away from her. 

“You sacrificed our relationship for the greater good of our country, I respect that, even if I don’t approve of the way you handled it. You should know that I’m going to do what I feel needs to be done to end this blight, for the greater good of Ferelden, and Thedas. So until you are officially crowned, you will fall into line, follow my orders, and not question my commands, just like the others. You put me in the lead back at Lothering, I’m not going to hand the reins over now, not when we’re so close to victory. If you have a problem with that, then you’re just going to have to deal with it, because if you’re not helping, you’re hurting.”

Back at the camp, Leliana fidgets with one of her daggers while doing her best to look uninterested in what is happening just out of sight. As the minutes tick by, the companions take turns glancing in the direction that Alistair and Lyn disappeared, always quickly returning their attention back to whatever they’d been doing originally. Only Wynne seems uninterested, as she finishes putting away the socks she’d been darning. Dean sits on the ground next to Dane, idly petting the hound’s huge head while his mind considers the possible outcomes of the confrontation between Lyn and Alistair. The worst possibilities keep coming to the front, like the chance of Lyn coming back and announcing that she and Alistair are back together. He tells himself that he wouldn’t care if that happened, but it’s hard to lie convincingly to your own heart. 

Alistair’s face is cold and impassive, Lyn’s is even colder, she doesn’t speak, just gives a hand signal that it’s time to move out as soon as they come back to camp. Everyone rushes to pick up their packs and move out, Dean lingers an extra moment so he ends up at the back of the group. Lyn falls in beside him, but doesn’t talk, her eyes focused on the road ahead. Leliana leads them down the highway, ever watchful for traps, while Zevran trails in the back, alert for an ambush. The group’s pace is hard and fast. Lyn pushing them on without ever saying a word, her body language more then enough to keep them motivated. When she breaks into a jog, the group does as well, taking advantage of the smooth patches of road and the fair weather. No one questions or begs for respite, as Lyn’s grim determination seems to have infected them all. The group might have their light moments at camp, but deep down they always are aware that they have a mission to fulfil that leaves no room for error. 

Just before nightfall they encounter a band of hurlocks accompanying an emissary. Using hand signals, she directs her companions where she wants them before she pulls her helm on over her hair. The darkspawn outnumber their group three to one, that doesn’t stop Lyn from leading a charge. As a group of hurlocks become aware of their presence, the female Grey Warden’s cold laughter rings across the air, sending a chill down Dean’s back as he draws his sword. Leliana fires poisoned arrows from the tree line, hidden and safe somewhere among the branches. Morrigan and Wynne stand near each other, the air around them crackling with magic, as spells erupt from their hands. Zevran and Oghren fight close together, the elf darting in and picking off any darkspawn that try to flank the shorter warrior. Dean charges in behind Shale and Sten, their huge bodies cutting a huge gap in the darkspawn ranks. 

Dean focuses on his fighting, but can’t help but glance in Lyn’s direction when he can. She fights side by side and back to back with Alistair, magic running along the edges of her weapons, sparking brightly whenever they come into contact with darkspawn flesh. The pair of Wardens cut their way to the emissary with deadly purpose. Alistair’s templar skills disarm it’s spells just long enough for Lyn to cast a few of her own. The creature roars angrily before charging at the armored elf, Lyn roars her own battle cry as she meets the creature’s charge head on. Lyn’s blades clash against the creature’s twisted staff, and it looks like the creature might overpower the small elven woman as it leans against her blades. Lyn gives a little ground, seeming to stumble back in weakness, the emissary grins, black ichor running down it’s chin, as she seems to unintentionally give way. It steps forward eagerly onto her lost ground, growling with delight. With a speed born of her elven blood and the added strength from the taint, Lyn dodges, ducks, and twists sideways away from the creature Her dragonbone blade flashes as it cuts through the air, and Lyn slices the exposed neck of the emissary. Blood squirts from the place where it’s head used to be a second later, the now lifeless body falling to the ground instantly. Lyn turns her attention away from her dead foe and sprints to engage the nearest darkspawn, eyes full of battle lust. Dean returns his own eyes back to his end of the battlefield just in time to see Morrigan go somersaulting into a group of darkspawn, coming out the other side in the form of a giant spider. It’s only a matter of minutes before the last of the darkspawn are killed, Shale crushing any that lie injured or on the brink of death. 

“Check the bodies for anything we can use, ten minutes until we move out. I want to reach Redcliffe by dawn.” 

Lyn’s voice cuts across the silent remnants of the battlefield, her tone crushing any thought of argument, only Oghren is brave enough to grumble in response, but even then, he makes sure to not to speak any louder then a mumble. Dean checks the bodies nearest to him, managing to find a few coppers and a gold ring, which he stuffs in the pouch at his waist. 

They continue on all through the night, their way lit by the stars in the cold, but clear, late winter sky. Just as the sun begins to light the edges of the horizon, the village of Redcliffe comes into sight. They quickly gain entrance into the castle, where they are served a breakfast in a spare dining hall. Hot food does much to revive everyone, restoring a good portion of moral. Lyn and Alistair leave the room when a servant appears to tell them that the Arl is ready to receive them. The rest of the companions split up to go clean up, and maybe even get some rest, Dean included


End file.
